Angel of the Bat
by MJTR
Summary: A chance occurrence may change Cassandra Cain's life forever. Inspired by the outline by Gail Simone
1. Chapter 1

Angel of the Bat

A fanfiction by MJTR

Author's Intro: While looking around at various unpublished comic book concepts and ideas, I came across Gail Simone's "Angel of the Bat" storyline, and found myself _very_ disappointed the thing never came to fruition. It seemed like such a good, interesting concept, and one that could lead to some potentially interesting storylines, and decided to take a crack at playing with the ideas in it. Bear in mind that this is not meant to be Simone's story, but is my version inspired by hers.

It had begun as a standard night on patrol. No big breakouts, no new faces of crime, nothing special.

It was just after 3 AM, a few blocks down from the Gotham City General Hospital. A small dog, a miniature poodle, came running out of the automatic doors as his master came out after him. He was a portly old man dressed in black, a white color covering his neck and an umbrella at his side, having noticed it had stopped raining since he had come. Most of his hair had been lost with age, but he had managed to comb most of the remainder over his scalp. It was only a few blocks to the rectory where he lived, and he hadn't brought his wallet to hail a cab with.

Guiding his dog along the streets, the old one turned with the sound of man in a nearby alley calling, "Hey, pops!" A young man seated against a dumpster, holding out a plastic cup. "Spare some change?"

He smiled, pulling on his dog's leash and entering the alley, kneeling before the young man and saying, "I'm afraid I didn't bring my wallet this evening. But I think I have something else I can offer you. How about-"

It was as far as he was permitted to get. There was a smashing sound resonating through the alley a moment later, a baseball bat crashing across his back, the old man yelling in pain as he fell to the ground, his dog barking and snarling, trying its hardest to compensate for its size as the one with the bat entered the alley, the one sitting against the dumpster flashing him a grin as he got to his feet.

"Sorry there padre," he chuckled. "But you of all people prolly know, angel dust don't come easy."

"You spend all night on that one?" His compatriot asked as he began frisking the old man's pockets. "What the hell? He really didn't bring anything with him?"

"Aw come on!" The first complained as the dog continued to bark. "I thought he was onea those "praise the lord types" not onea those, "live in poverty" ones!"

The two didn't even notice as a shadow slowly began to cover them. "What the hell are you talkin' about? And hey, dog, shut the hell up!"

The dog made a lunge and dug its teeth into the uncovered leg of the one with the bat. He let out a yell and tried to shake it off as his friend reached into his pocket and produced a handgun.

"Shoulda kept your dog on a shorter leash old man," he sneered as his partner managed to kick it off. "Let's hope all dogs go to heaven, huh?"

Before he could pull the trigger, the shadow made its descent. A figure clad in black had jumped from the rooftop and landed on the armed one's back, kicking the gun out of his reach. The one with the bat yelled in response, though it wasn't clear what he said. He pulled the bat back intent on crashing into the figure, but it caught the attack, kicking him in the stomach and broke the bat over its knee, tossing the pieces aside and punching him in the face, seemingly knocking him unconscious.

The old man pushed himself onto his knees, wiping at his face a little and grabbing his dog's leash. The figure, who he could identify as female, put out her hand, helping the man to his feet.

"Come," she said simply.

The man was on his way up before he yelled, "Behind you!"

She had anticipated he would be back up, and, not releasing the man's hand, curved herself to the side and kicked him in the face, putting him again to the ground. When the old man was on his feet, she resumed her attack, grabbing and twisting the perp's arm until the sound of cracking bone and screams filled the alley. She looked intently towards the other before the old man yelled, "Enough!" She turned to him and settled a little as he said. "If you can… Please, help me back to the hospital." The figure nodded, going to his side to give him support, pulling him upwards, one of the old man's hand kept firmly on the leash. "My cell phone, it's in my right pocket. Could you hand it to me?" She complied wordlessly, scooping up his dog with her free hand and motioning to him it was alright to let go of the leash. His hand now free, he dialed 911, and when he received an answer, said, "I need to speak with Gotham emergency. There are two young men laying beaten in an alley on 34th street."

This was the first thing to happen that surprised the black figure. She would have put in word to the police that two criminals were awaiting arrest, but this man had called that they be taken in for care, first and foremost.

In the light of the hospital the figure was unquestionably Batgirl, unknown to the public as Cassandra Cain. Garbed entirely in black except for the yellows of her belt and outline of a bat that adorned her front, the man was intrigued to see her as she, for reasons she followed him to his room.

Cassandra did not usually see victims through after bringing them to safety, but it had proven a quiet night in Gotham and somehow, this old man had intrigued her since he had insisted on making the call.

After the preliminary screenings found he had not broken any bones, he was admitted to a room, a plucky nurse chuckling as she entered.

"And you and Snowball had just left this wing Father Ryan," she said. "And you take a step outside and wind up right back in." She turned towards Batgirl, continuing to laugh, "And God sent you a very special angel to get you in here alright, didn't he?"

Cassandra wondered for a moment why she had called the man father before he laughed a little himself and replied, "The lord works in mysterious ways Cathy."

"Now when morning comes you'll have to call somebody. I know Snowball won't bring anyone here any trouble, but hospital policy, you know?"

"Of course, of course," he insisted. "No Cathy I'm feeling fine. A few day's rest and I'll be back on my feet… Could you give us a moment?"

"Oh certainly! You just call if you need anything."

The two were soon left alone, the old man turning to Cassandra and saying, "I didn't have much of a chance to thank you properly."

"Why did she call you father?" Cassandra asked.

Ryan smiled, "She's a member of my congregation. My name is George Ryan, Monsignor."

"Mon… Seen… Your?" Cassandra asked, trying to sound the word out, still unsure of its meaning.

"I take it you aren't a Catholic then." He said, still smiling. Cassandra was sure that she knew that word, but was unsure of where, but decided to press on.

"Why did you call the hospital?" She asked next.

"I wanted to be sure those two received care as soon as it could come. I am very glad that you saved me, but I want to be sure they will be out and about again."

This came as a surprise to Cassandra. She had not stayed around after many attacks on the innocents of Gotham, but was sure most of them didn't harbor such good will towards their assailants. "They could have killed you."

"And maybe after tonight they will know they shouldn't do such things again," Ryan insisted. "We all stray from the path sometimes, but we all deserve the chance to find it again."

Cassandra had rarely felt so perplexed by a man's mantra. Most of Gotham thought the criminals of the city below them, a species apart, to be captured and put away forever. Even if he insisted otherwise, sometimes it was hard to believe Bruce didn't sometimes think this way. That the battle on crime was more about caging animals than securing people in the hopes of reform. Cassandra didn't want to linger on these thoughts and quickly said, "I must go."

"Wait!" Ryan said, pointing with his good hand towards the clothes he had come in wearing that had been replaced by hospital scrubs. "My left pocket. Please, I don't have much to offer you, but I hope it is a little token of my appreciation. Snowball and I are so thankful."

Cassandra went to his pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a large, beaded necklace, a small T shape at its bottom with a man etched into it.

"Take one of my cards too," Ryan said. "I'd be so happy to see you again, hopefully out of costume next time."

Cassandra pulled out one of his cards, marked, "Monsignor George Ryan. Saint Michael's Cathedral, Gotham City".

"You wouldn't recognize me" Cassandra said.

"That's alright," Ryan replied. "We get newcomers all the time. Maybe I'll just have to treat every one of them like they just saved my life." And he began to laugh again.

Clutching the strange necklace and the card, Cassandra made her way out, perplexed by the man's happiness and methodology, but deciding then she would have to see him again.


	2. Chapter 2

Since her official adoption by Bruce a few months earlier, Cassandra had spent her days being slowly home schooled by Alfred. It was agreed to be the best arrangement, since Cassandra lacked the social skills to properly go to school the way the Robins had and she could still get the information she was looking for. It was their hope that maybe someday, she would be able to out and interact freely in Gotham the way the rest of Bruce's family did.

Alfred was slow and patient every step of the way with teaching her how to read and write. In spite of everything she had already played a part in, it was the simple meaning and coding behind the symbols on every page that continued to confound her. Bruce had promised he would always find her another way to receive case files and investigate, but Cassandra continued learning for her own benefit. She wanted there to be more to her life than her horrid youth and time as a vigilante.

With the previous night's oddities still in her mind, Cassandra quietly interrupted Alfred's lesson on the placements of I's and E's to say, "Alfred, can I ask a question?"

"Certainly Miss Cassandra," he said. "What did you have in mind?" She reached into her pocket and produced the beaded necklace Father Ryan had given to her, holding it out for him to see. Alfred gave her a curious look as he ran a hand over it. "Where did you get this?"

"Someone I helped last night," Cassandra said.

"Interesting… This is a rosary Miss Cassandra. Did the man have any affiliation with anyone?"

"Said he was a… Mon-seen-your," Cassandra said, trying to remember exactly how it was pronounced.

"A monsignor?" Now Alfred was intrigued. "You may have helped a very important man last night Miss Cassandra. The rosary is an important object of prayer amongst members of the Catholic Church. You're supposed to say a certain prayer on each of these beads here, you see… I don't have much more specific information than that I'm afraid. I'm not a Catholic myself."

Cassandra knew all of the words he had said, but still didn't know what to make of the gift. "What is a Catholic?"

Alfred gave her a sad little smile, "I don't think I could just explain it to you now Miss Cassandra. Maybe another day." He was about to continue his lesson when there was a loud ringing at the door. "Excuse me a moment."

Cassandra was left alone in the Wayne Manor study as Alfred made his way downstairs to the door, the unquestionable voice of a bubbly Stephanie Brown echoing through the halls and into her place.

"Hi Alfred!" She said. "Is my costume finished with yet?"

"Of course Miss Stephanie," Alfred replied. "I must go down to the 'basement' to retrieve it however. You may wait in the study with Miss Cassandra if you please. Is Master Tim going to be late tonight?"

"Tim is trying to nab some extra credit tutoring kids after class. All our teachers think he's out all night, every night partying."

"Well, I suppose it isn't an altogether inaccurate assumption."

In minutes the perky blonde was tossing aside her backpack and sitting next to Cassandra, flashing her a big smile. "Hey Cassie. What are you working on there?"

"English." Cassandra said before referring to the rosary. "And this."

Stephanie's look almost matched Alfred's. "Huh… You're a Catholic now?"

The word was beginning to crawl under Cassandra's skin. "I don't know what that means!" She complained, Stephanie laughing a little.

"Cool your jets. Where'd you get this?"

Cassandra again repeated her story, though this time her listener agreed she was not sure what a "Mon-seen-your" was. When her story finished, Stephanie's response was, "Well, good work as always."

"But what does it mean? What does any of it mean?"

"You'll have to be a little more specific," Stephanie replied. "But even then I guess there's a big obvious question in there too… How much do you know about religion?"

"It's… Praying, right?" Cassandra said. "You talk to someone in your head… And that is the someone who created you, right?"

"Well, that's the basics," Stephanie said. "You've never done it, have you?"

"My father and mother created me," Cassandra said. "I don't ever want to talk to them."

Stephanie laughed, "If that was it, I'd never do it myself. I don't need to talk to my old man and Mom's a cell phone call away."

"Do you do it?" Cassandra asked.

"Yeah, sometimes," Stephanie said. "I mean, I don't really do it like I'm _supposed_ to. But I've been in some bad, bad spot before… That's when I've done it, mostly." She leaned back and sighed a little, "Don't ask me much about that though. I'm a Methodist."

"Another label," Cassandra muttered. "What does any of it mean?"

Stephanie looked around on the table a little before grabbing a sheet of paper out of one of Cassandra's notebooks. "Let me try and draw you a picture, okay?" She said. "Now let's say right here," she drew a picture and a capital G, "Let's say this is the world's first superhero, okay? We'll call him 'Goodman', because I just had a full day at school and my originality circuitry is a little fried," Cassandra nodded, looking at the page intently. "Now, let's say that 'Goodman' was the biggest, best superhero ever, and every hero who came after him wanted to be just like him, but they didn't agree how to do it." She drew an oval around the G, "Now Goodman and his virtues are an umbrella. Down here," she drew a line and a crude bat, "Is Batman, who uses some of Goodman's tactics, but not all of them. And over here," she drew another line and then an S, "Is Superman, and he uses _other_ stuff Goodman said. And farther over _here_," she drew a W, "Is Wonder Woman, who uses _other_ things Goodman said. Every one of them _wants_ to be the new Goodman, but none of them can agree _how_."

"Alright," Cassandra replied. "What does Goodman have to do with people in your head?"

"Maybe this wasn't such a good example," Stephanie admitted. "But let's just put it like that. The guy you saved last night? He's a Superman Goodman follower. I'm a Batman Goodman follower. Same inspiration, different practice."

"Then what am I?" Cassandra asked.

"Umm… See, this is why this is a bad example," Stephanie said. "You're… Not under this umbrella." Cassandra looked at her, "You're Batgirl okay? This is just association, I can't take that away. Know what, this is stupid," she crumpled up the paper and tossed it aside. "Don't even worry about it."

"But I want to learn," Cassandra said. "I want to know why he called the hospital before the police. Why he wanted to be sure they were safe after they attacked him."

Alfred returned with Stephanie's uniform, "Good as new," he assured her, handing it off. "Are you two well?"

"As one can trying to explain spirituality to Cassie." Stephanie took her costume from Alfred and gave her friend another smile. "I'd stick around, but I have to hide this thing before Mom gets home from work. I might see you out on patrol tonight, okay?"

"Of course," Cassandra said, giving her a happy little nod, as if to tell her goodbye. Cassandra turned back towards her work and the rosary, still wondering about the man.

And making the decision to see him again. She still had too many questions not to. The only question left was if it would be Cassandra, or Batgirl who would pay that visit.


	3. Chapter 3

"You should probably take that off before you see him dear. We don't usually like them being worn while you're out and about."

Yet another confusing convention: a necklace you were not supposed to wear.

With help from Stephanie, Cassandra had looked into where the church on Father Ryan's card had been located and what his office hours were. Cassandra recognized the church from a few encounters she had been a part of just outside of it, but had never really looked inside. Sunlight was blaring through the brightly colored stained glass, depicting images she wasn't quite sure how to process. Chandeliers hung above rows and rows of pews, which she could only presume would be uncomfortable to sit in, leader to a decorated altar, a podium and a box of some kind full of candles. In the center, both in glass and carved of wood, was the same figure from the rosary, hanging from the T-shape.

Cassandra went over what she had picked up over the years. The man's name was Jesus, and he was depicted in the way he was dying. This was always confusing to her. Everything she had heard seemed to indicate he was a good man, so why was he so regularly shown in the way he had died? Maybe this would be the day she would find out.

"Excuse me? Is there something I can help you with?" She had jumped a little at the sound as a woman with short brown hair entered behind her, garbed in a white sweater and khakis. Cassandra herself was garbed in a hooded sweatshirt and jeans, rosary hanging from her neck.

It was not the same one that had been given to her by Father Ryan, which was tucked inside one of the zippable, inside pockets of her hoodie, but another she had purchased, in the hopes of looking the part but not making it obvious she was the one who had saved him. She had thought quite a bit about which identity to approach him in, but ultimately decided Cassandra would be best, since it was against regulation to use the costume for anything but crime-fighting work. And, after all, Father Ryan had said he hoped to see her outside her costume when she returned.

"George Ryan," Cassandra said. "I wanted to see the… Monsignor." She managed to say on her first try.

"I think he's a little tied up at the moment, but we can definitely go see. Did you have some questions?" The woman asked.

"Many," Cassandra said.

"Alright, well, come this way," the woman said, leading her out of the chapel proper and into a hallway connected to the entrance.

Cassandra silently thought over her cover. If asked why she didn't speak much or seemed direct, it was a two way street: English was her second language and her parents had instructed her to speak very directly. If she were to be asked to read, she would maintain she did not know English well enough. The very real Chinese ancestry on her maternal side would help with the illusion. In the meantime, she reminded herself, she was just to stay calm and ask questions carefully.

The woman she had spoken to stopped to peak into an office and ask a few questions before she turned to Cassandra, bidding she remove the rosary from her neck and then feel free to enter.

Father Ryan's office was decorated with a number of landscape paintings and certificates all along the walls and a bookshelf on the right side of his desk. The desk itself had a number of trinkets strewn across it, including another rosary, a small, wooden T-shape, framed photos of the Monsignor with other people, one of whom looked exactly like him. A laptop was set aside and a number of papers were set centermost, next to a cup of coffee, half of a cold-cut sandwich and, to Cassandra's pleasant surprise, Snowball, curled up and seemingly asleep, though perking up a little as Cassandra entered.

"Hello there," Father Ryan said, motioning she enter and take the seat in front of his desk. "Come in, come in… You're not allergic to dogs are you?"

"No," Cassandra said.

"Excellent. Better safe than sorry, you know?" He said, stroking the dog's fur a little before extending one of his arms. "I don't believe we've met. My name is Monsignor George Ryan, and this is Snowball."

"Lin Chu," Cassandra said, taking his hand and shaking it. She had contemplated using her real name, but knew she could not hold up her disguise as an immigrant if he were to find out Cassandra Cain was the latest of Bruce Wayne's adopted children.

"Lin, what can I do for you? Let me warn you real quick I need to look over some of these things while we're talking. I just got out of the hospital and need to do some catching up."

"Yes, of course," Cassandra said. "I am very sorry."

"Oh I'm feeling fine now," Father Ryan insisted. "Jessica said you had some questions for me?"

"Yes. I read about what happened to you the other night." It wasn't a lie, a short story about it had been published in the newspaper.

"If this is about The Batgirl I can't tell you anything," Father Ryan chuckled. "She saved me but I hardly had a chance to say thank you."

"No. Not that," Cassandra said. "I read what you said about the men. The ones who attacked you."

"I'm actually thinking about giving this Sunday's sermon on what happened," Father Ryan said. "It was an awful experience, to be sure, but we can always learn something from those bad places in our lives. A time for everything, you know?" Cassandra looked at him blankly. "A time to be born, a time to die. A time to plant, and a time to uproot."

Now Cassandra was left to contemplate these words as well. Those were all things she knew about of course, all simple, everyday things. But being ambushed in an alley and beaten by criminals was not such a normal thing. At least it was not supposed to be. And yet Father Ryan still treated it completely in passing. Cassandra had meant to wait longer before going on, but could not stop herself from asking, "What is a Catholic?"

Father Ryan gave her a little more of his chuckle as he took a sip out of his coffee mug. "Surely you mean what are we all about, right?" When he expression did not change he frowned a little, "Oh… You were being literal?"

"Yes," she said.

Father Ryan blinked twice and adjusted himself in his seat, "Well, I'm a little surprised you came to me for that… Um… Well… Historically, Catholicism is the oldest branch of Christianity."

Cassandra knew that word, she was sure of it. It was related to Christmas, she at least could be sure of that much, but still didn't think she understood it entirely. "I'm not from America," she lied. "There isn't much Christianity where I come from."

"That explains a few things actually," Father Ryan said. Cassandra had to bat an eye at this in her mind, but was sure he was not trying to be condescending. "Well, the most basic aspect is simply that Christians follow and believe in the words and deeds of Jesus Christ."

_Goodman_ Cassandra said in her mind. "More. Please."

"Well," Father Ryan was now setting aside his papers, as if to offer her more attention, "Christianity holds that two-thousand years ago, God came to earth in the form of a man named Jesus." _God_, Cassandra thought. A concept she knew, but never really meditated on. "And Jesus came to earth to do many miracles and, ultimately, to die for our sins."

_Die for our sins_. Cassandra had heard similar words many times. Many of the supervillains she and the others had faced over the years had brought with them the promise, "Gotham will die for its sins".

A sin, she had gathered, was an act of evil. These were the kinds of criminals who had come to Gotham to punish it for the many criminals it had produced. But why did this God-man die for "our" sins?

"What does that mean?" Cassandra asked. "Die for our sins?"

"Oh my," Father Ryan said, shaking his head a little. "I had hoped your questions would have easier answers than this… Listen, Lin, I sponsor a bible study for young men and women your age. Maybe you could try coming there and I could answer your questions in a better setting. I am terribly sorry, but Snowball and I have so much work to do here."

"That is fine," Cassandra said, unsure of how much she was lying and trying to figure out just what a "bible study" would be.

"Well great, here," he said, grabbing a card identical to the one he had already given her and jotting some information down on it, "We meet at six PM on Wednesday nights." He rose from his chair and walked to the bookcase, pulling one of the giant tomes out from it, "And I'd like you to take this with you as well."

"I can't read… English," Cassandra added quickly.

"I think I have one here in Mandarin. Can you read in Mandarin?" He asked.

"No. No the first is fine," Cassandra said. "I have friends. They can help."

"Well here you are then," Father Ryan said, passing her the enormous book. "And I hope to see you again very soon."

As Cassandra made her way out of his office, her mind swiftly turned to how Bruce would respond to her latest bit of detective work.


	4. Chapter 4

The nights were finally beginning to pick up again, which Cassandra welcomed after the increasing confusion and questions of the past few days.

"Some of Cobblepot's favored thugs were sighted on their way to the Flugelheim Museum," Bruce explained in the cave, strapping on his gauntlets. "There's a gala out there tonight for an aspiring artist. I don't know what Cobblepot's planning, but the police insisted they wanted some back up."

"To the museum then?" Cassandra asked.

"Robin and Spoiler are already on their way there," Bruce replied, moving upward to his cape and cowl. "I want you to come with me and deal with Cobblepot personally. He always keeps the best guards to himself."

Cassandra pulled on her masked hood and nodded, climbing into the back of the Batmobile as the two went roaring out into the hills of Gotham Heights, speeding towards the city.

"I heard you had a run in with George Ryan," Bruce said. "Did you know he was a friend of Tim's family?"

"The Drakes?" Cassandra asked.

"Yes. Oversaw his parent's wedding, Jack's second one, Tim's baptism, everything. He's mentioned it a few times when we've driven by the church."

Cassandra considered asking a few more questions, but Batman's hand was to his ear, muttering to Tim and Stephanie, "Keeping focus over there?"

"Yeah," Cassandra could hear Tim over the radio built into her uniform. "I definitely do recognize a few of these guys too. If anything happens, we'll be the first to know. Are you guys heading to the Iceberg Lounge then? You don't think that's too obvious?"

"No, Cobblepot will want to be where he knows he's safe. Even if the police know those are his men, they'll need more evidence to convict him if he was just sitting and waiting for them to catch up."

As the two continued to race through the streets of Gotham they eventually parked just a few blocks down from the seemingly abandoned Iceberg Lounge restaurant. Bruce and Cassandra were both quick to getting out and grappling to the rooftops for a better look at the Penguin's defenses, The Batman being the first to mutter a confused, "What's all that about?"

Cassandra turned to him, confused, as he pointed downward towards the shotgun wielding guards just in front of the door. "Yes?" Cassandra asked. "The guards?"

"No," Batman said. "Look to your right."

Cassandra scanned the area as he had instructed and, to her shock, noticed several bloody corpses laid strewn about, riddled with bullet wounds, shotgun shells from the looks of them. She looked back towards the guards at the door to confirm their weapons. Definitely shotguns.

"Notice anything else?" Batman asked. "They're dressed the exact same way."

It was true, Cassandra realized. The dead men and the ones posted at the door wore identical pinstripe suits, all of their hair buzzed short and out of the way. It was clear: the guards at the door had killed the other members of their staff.

"But why?" Cassandra asked, as much to herself as to Bruce.

"I don't know, but those two are in for a rude awakening," Batman snarled, reaching into his belt and producing a small pellet. "Follow my lead."

Within moments the two focused guards were frantically searching and coughing, finding themselves in the midst of a dense smoke from the pellet Batman had tossed. A few shotgun blasts went up into the air, but nothing made contact with the two stalkers of the night, who quickly disposed of the two, Batman resuming his contact with Robin as they approached the door.

"How are things looking on your side?" He asked.

"I was gonna call you a second ago," Robin said, his voice somewhat frantic, the sound of a few gun blasts in the background. "The artist guy, Vignarolli? He's okay, Spoiler has him. But uh… I don't know how to say this… Penguin's goons are killing each other."

"Your side too?" Cassandra asked as the two walked into the lounge.

"I mean it just came the hell outta nowhere," Tim said, trying to yell over the blasts. "I gotta go deal with them, but something weird is going on here. Really weird."

The two dropped their attention to Robin as they looked forward into the icy-colored lounge, the smallest twitches coming from Batman as he looked on. Nine of the men in the tailored suits were spread across the room, blood dripping from their chests and mouths, only one of them making the slightest indication he was still breathing. Tables and chairs were tossed aside, shattered glass covering the floor, destruction all around them.

In the restaurant's center stood four of varying sizes and heights, two gripping machine guns, one with a set of brass knuckles and a third looking over a pair of knives.

"You'd best see yourself out Bat," the one with the knives said, taking a battle stance. "We're only here for Cobblepot… At least tonight we are."

"We ain't afraid of you!" Chimed in one of the machine gun wielders. "The Iceberg Lounge is under new management!"

"Really? And who would that be?" Batman said, his eyes running over all of them, Cassandra recognizing his expression as the one he wore when toying with his opponents.

"He's not ready to make his grand entrance just yet. But hey, maybe he'll be more apt when he knows the streets are a little _cleaner!_"

With his last word the one with the brass knuckles ran at Batman. Though the two were similar in height, Batman had no difficulty dodging to the side and kicking him square in his stomach, followed by a swift punch in the nose that put the attacker off his feet.

It was then the attackers cut loose. The sound of ricocheting bullets filled the room as Batman and Batgirl quickly retreated behind two of the cool colored pillars decorating the lounge. Machine gun fire took over for around a minute before a momentary quiet to reload. The Dark Knights took their moment then and lunged out from their hiding places.

Batman delivered a punch square across the jaw of one of them as Cassandra rushed forward and bent the other's arm, forcing him to relinquish the hold on his gun and knocking him to the ground with a leg sweep. She was about to go to work on the arm with the knife-wielder made his way over. Cassandra briefly released her first captive to catch the twin blades heading towards her, again breaking her opponent's grip, grabbing behind his head, and smashing his face into her knee, knocking him backwards with blood dripping out his nose. With a quick curve and stomp Cassandra rendered the gunman's arm useless as he shrieked in pain. "You'll recover," she assured him quietly, as she jumped forward towards the knife wielding thug and delivered a decisive blow to his head, knocking him unconscious. Cassandra turned to see Batman deliver the finishing blow to both of his opponents, smashing their heads together and tossing them both aside.

Quickly so as not to keep him waiting, Cassandra rushed to grab a chair and propped the bloodied man up onto it to ensure it would not flow down his throat. With an approving nod, Batman led her down through the lounge, where he knew Cobblepot's private suite would be.

"Robin, Spoiler, what's going on down there? Is everything secure?" Batman asked.

"Yeah, looks like we're in the clear here… I still don't have any idea what just happened though."

"Well, let's see if Cobblepot has some answers," Batman muttered as he pointed Cassandra forward to a pair of oak doors marked, "Manager's Suite. Do not disturb." A keypad was connected to the doors, which Batman made his way towards.

"Double checked these before we left," he said, typing in the code 2473 and waiting for confirmation. To his irritation he was denied access. "Damn, must have switched them before we came in."

To both his and Cassandra's surprise, there came a metallic turning sound: the unlocking mechanism. Giving it a moment or two, Batman proceeded to the oak doors and delivered a swift kick, forcing them open.

"Always 'ave to make an entrance don'tcha Bats?" The small, cockney voiced man cackled as the two heroes made their way in. "I even unlocked the bloody thing for ya!"

"What's this all about Cobblepot?" Batman demanded. "What were you trying to do to Vignarolli and why were your men shooting one another?"

"Like ta get right to the point, don'tcha," Cobblepot sneered. He stood around four feet ten and was grossly overweight, his face seemed painfully scrunched at all times and clashed strongly with his oversized nose. A large cigar was wrapped around his sausage like fingers, and he took a long drag on it before he said, "I idn't ave anything to do with it."

Batman made his way over to the seated villain, the difference in their size now even more impressive as he looked down into his eyes. "Didn't you?"

"No, I didn't," The Penguin sneered. "If I wanted a few pieces a' that snot nosed Vignarolli's a't, I'd a gotten it fair. No, a few a my boys, Jimmy Wockets, Evan Drum, all that lot, all said they were handlin' some pick up duty fer the lounge t'night. I'm sittin' ere enjoyin' a fine Cuban when Rye'son looks over at me an says, "We don't work fer you no more". I shot im' in the gut with me umbrella, not gonna deny it, but the basta'd 'ad a gun ta my head. And then they all stat'd killin' eachotha. Simple as that Bats."

"So you really had nothing to do with any of this?" Batman said, not trusting a word he had just summarized.

"Piss off. I got security cameras all over this place if you wanna investigate furtha'," Cobblepot said.

Batman gave him a last intent stare before leading Cassandra away to find the surveillance footage, and just what had happened before they arrived.


	5. Chapter 5

Cassandra still had not even opened the book the monsignor had given her, remaining on her dresser as she wondered what to do with it. She could read a little, but didn't feel confident with the size of the book, and there had been questions all along the way thus far, the book sure to just make her ask more.

She considered asking Alfred to help her read it, but wasn't sure she wanted to take any more of his attention away from their studies. She could ask Bruce, but his work was also very time consuming, especially trying to figure out what had gone on the night a few nights ago with The Penguin's men. There was Barbara, but she didn't even know anything about what she had been experiencing.

It had been a while since she had made the journey to the East Side in daylight. Her English decent enough to give her guidance from bus to bus until she made her last stop, only a block or two away from her destination. Cassandra checked her watch, knowing she was arriving about half an hour early but not feeling bothered by it. She located the small house, more by the address than by memory, and knocked on the door a few times. When only silence answered her, Cassandra took a seat on the doorstep as the cars continued to buzz through the street, once in a while looking down at the book and double checking the rosary, still in her left pocket, still unsure of just what to make of it.

At last the long yellow school bus stopped just across the street, all sorts of teenagers pouring out, but only the one with long blonde hair concerning Cassandra.

"Cassie? What are you doing here?" Stephanie asked, fumbling around in her pockets for the front door key.

"Waiting for you," Cassandra said.

"Well obviously. I meant _why_," Stephanie said, unlocking the door and motioning her in, "My mom's covering for some of the afternoon shifters, otherwise she'd have just let you in."

Cassandra walked in slowly. The Brown home was small, but comfortable as she'd remembered from the few times she had come for more than a passing moment. Stephanie was already busying herself by retrieving a large pitcher of tea from the fridge and pouring a glass about half full, then pulling out a second pitcher of lemonade and filling the rest of it, which Cassandra observed with confusion and interest. "Is that normal?" She asked.

"Arnold Palmers? They aren't _un_normal," Stephanie said. When Cassandra gave her a blank look she quickly added, "I have no idea who that is either. But apparently he has good taste. Let me pour you one and you can tell me what's up."

Stephanie poured the second glass, mixing the contents around with a spoon hastily grabbed out of one of the drawers and passed it on to Cassandra, who had set the heavy tome down on her kitchen table. Stephanie sighed a little, smiling and shaking her head. "How did I know it was going to come to this?"

"Feeling distracted," Cassandra said. "I want to know what it means."

"And you came to me for that," Stephanie chuckled. "I told you, I'm a Batman girl. This is Superman stuff… Or whatever said. Superman, Batman, Godman, Jesusman, I don't even remember."

"But they have the same message," Cassandra said. "You told me."

"Same message, very different execution," Stephanie sighed. "This is why they hook you when you're young. It keeps you from questioning things… So what, do you really want me to read that whole thing to you?"

"Not all at once," Cassandra said. Stephanie looked at her for a moment before she burst out laughing. Cassandra gave her a smile, though she wasn't quite sure why it solicited such a reaction and took a sip of her drink.

"I'm gonna make Bruce pay for this," Stephanie said, regaining her composure little by little. "Tutors make really good money." She took a sip of her own concoction before laying a pat on Cassandra's back. "This really is a big deal to you, huh?"

"I want to learn," Cassandra said.

"Well, you're the only person I've ever known who could beat me in a, 'my dad's worse than your dad,' contest. I guess this is an acceptable prize." She was smiling now, "And you're one of my best friends. So I'll see what I can do." She went to open to the first page, but then muttered, "Great, it's one of those student bibles," and began flipping past the pages quickly, "Probably just a lot of stuff on what a horrible person premarital sex makes you. You don't have to worry about it and it's already too late for me."

"What do you mean?" Cassandra asked.

"Baby. Remember? Aw who am I kidding, everybody's tried forgetting about it. Heck, I hoped _I'd_ forget about it by now… I think..."

"I never forgot," Cassandra said, taking Stephanie by surprise. "It says a lot. About you."

"That I was… Who am I kidding, I _am_ a really stupid teenager?" Stephanie asked.

"That you are brave," Cassandra said. "And how brave you would have to have been. I don't know everything, but I know you had… Alternatives."

"Not according to this book I didn't," Stephanie said with a finger open to the page she seemed to have been looking for. "And not according to me."

"It told you what to do?" Cassandra asked.

"Sort of," Stephanie said. "I mean, yes, it tells you what to do, but a lot of people, including me, think it's more important how it teaches you how to live. Not so much rule by rule but by telling you what you should value." Cassandra eyed Stephanie's hand as it slid off the table slowly before her fingers curled and gripped the fabric of her t-shirt just over her stomach. "I think about it… I think about _her_ more than I let anyone know… Even Tim. I wonder if I did the right thing, when I gave her away without even a good look… But I never had to wonder if it was right to have her." Stephanie wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "This book, and me, decided that."

"I have felt a heart stop beating," Cassandra said. "It is horror."

Stephanie smiled a little, got up from her seat and blew her nose with a napkin sitting on the counter, balling it up and throwing it away before sitting back down. "Maybe it was a good reminder about never being alone… I'm sorry, what am I doing? This isn't supposed to be my sobbing hour, I'm supposed to be helping you read this."

"It is alright," Cassandra insisted.

"Yeah well, fair warning Cass, I may be a terrible teacher," Stephanie said, giving one more sigh before turning to the book, "You ready for this? Alright, here we go… In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth…"

[[Wanted to take a sec to apologize for all the time I spent away from this fic. I'm hoping my energy has been renewed to the point of regular chapter updates again]]


End file.
